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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23668087">In Which a Trip to the Farmers' Market Is Made</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlwenDylluan/pseuds/OlwenDylluan'>OlwenDylluan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>It Cannot Be Taken From You [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Farmers' Markets, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Snakes, coparenting is hard, does it count as kid fic if the kids are snakes but so is one of the parents, ineffable kids, parenting is hard, wiggleverse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:13:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,448</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23668087</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlwenDylluan/pseuds/OlwenDylluan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, as Quilly put it...</p><p>...in which knowing what comes down the road for this kid doesn't make this fic more heartbreaking at all even a little bit.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley &amp; Original Child(ren) of Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>It Cannot Be Taken From You [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602421</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>176</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Wiggleverse</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In Which a Trip to the Farmers' Market Is Made</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dear readers, I outlined and then wrote half of this back in November 2019. LITTLE DID I KNOW WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN IN ROUND &amp; ROUND.</p><p>But Junior is overdue for his solo noodle adventure. Here you are, as bittersweet as it is to be read in the light of his storyline in <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22326079?view_full_work=true">The New Arrangement</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale hummed as he closed his accounts book and capped his fountain pen. He stood and stretched, arching his back, then made his way to the coat rack and picked up a market basket. </p><p>
  <em> Azirafather? </em>
</p><p>“Yes, my boy?” he said, turning around. The habitat in the back of the shop was barely visible.</p><p>
  <em> Where are you going? </em>
</p><p>“Out, my dear. I have some things to pick up.”</p><p>
  <em> Everyone’s asleep, Azirafather. I’m bored.  </em>
</p><p>“Are you not up for a nap, Junior?” he said, moving deeper into the shop. </p><p>
  <em> No. Can you stay with me? </em>
</p><p>“I would, dear, but I really want to get my errand done this afternoon.” As he neared the habitat, he saw a single black shape peeking up over the shadowy form of a pile where the other snakelets slept. If a snake could look pitiful, that was the vibe Junior was projecting as hard as he could.</p><p>
  <em> Can I go with you, then? Please, Azirafather? </em>
</p><p>Aziraphale considered the idea, looking at the snake’s pleading eyes. Millennia hanging about with Crowley had given him a decent education in learning to interpret herpetological emotion on a face that was technically incapable of expression. </p><p>“If you do, I need you to promise to be very, very good, Junior.”</p><p><em> I will be! I promise! I’ll be so good! </em> Junior started wiggling in anticipation. <em> Please, Azirafather! </em></p><p>“All right,” he said, putting down the basket and reaching into the habitat. “Come along, Junior. We’ll run this errand together.”</p><p>The small snake wound excitedly around his hand as he withdrew it from the terrarium. </p><p>“Pocket?” he said. “Or basket?”</p><p><em> Pocket, please, Azirafather, </em> Junior said, and Aziraphale slipped him into his breast pocket. </p><p>“You are almost too big to ride in a pocket,” he said as Junior adjusted his position. “You’re growing so quickly!”</p><p><em> It’s because I eat all my mice, </em> Junior said importantly. <em> Not like Datura. </em></p><p>“Datura simply isn’t hungry sometimes,” Aziraphale said, slipping the basket over his arm and turning off the shop lights.</p><p><em> But Azirafather, you eat when you’re not hungry, </em> Junior pointed out. </p><p>“I eat because I enjoy food,” Aziraphale reminded him, stepping outside and locking the shop door. “I technically don’t require sustenance to fuel me. You are all young snakes, and you’re growing at different rates. You’ll need food at different times, as well.”</p><p><em> Rats</em>, said Junior. <em> I’ll get to the size where I will need to eat rats. </em></p><p>“Mmm, possibly,” Aziraphale said. “Father may have a thing or two to say about that, though. Perhaps just more mice at a sitting.”</p><p>
  <em> Where are we going, Azirafather? </em>
</p><p>“To the market.” Aziraphale looked both ways and crossed the street. “We need some fresh veg, and perhaps some cheese.”</p><p>
  <em> How do we get there? </em>
</p><p>“Well, it’s a lovely day, and I thought we’d walk.”</p><p>
  <em> I ride! </em>
</p><p>“Yes, you’re getting a ride,” Aziraphale agreed. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the tiny black head bobbing in his coat’s breast pocket, looking about, tiny tongue flickering, taking in all the complex smells of the street air. The walk to the market took about thirty minutes, and the warm early autumn sun made it enjoyable.</p><p><em> Look at all the things, </em> Junior said in awe as they approached the stalls and tents. The chatter of the people browsing the market offerings grew louder, and Junior pulled back into Aziraphale’s pocket a bit. </p><p>“Veg first,” Aziraphale said cheerfully, and visited each of his favourite vendors… which was all of them, really, because he made it a point to buy something from each; tomatoes from one, greens from another, apples and plums and summer squash from others. </p><p><em> Azirafather? </em> Junior said as the angel finished up another purchase, smiling fulsomely at the young lady in jeans and a hoodie who handed back his change. <em> What do you do with all this food? </em></p><p>“Ah,” Aziraphale said. He tucked the potatoes into the basket on his arm and clasped his hands in front of his waist, strolling through the sunny street. “Well, we eat some of it, of course.”</p><p><em> But Azirafather, </em> Junior said, <em> not even you could eat all this food. </em></p><p>Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Yes, well; no, I couldn’t. Nor would I want to. Oh look, there’s the cheesemonger. Let’s get something for a nibble.”</p><p>Something for a nibble was a lovely sharp farmhouse cheddar, a Devonshire Red, and an elderflower cheese. And since there was cheese, there had to be bread, a few loaves of which went on to include rolls and buns. Junior peeked out of the pocket to watch Aziraphale offer a charming smile to the baker as he tucked his purchases into the basket.</p><p><em> Azirafather, </em> Junior said, <em> how does that small basket hold everything you buy? </em></p><p>“Ah, well,” Aziraphale murmured, “it’s amazing what one can fit in a market basket, you know, my dear.”</p><p>
  <em> Why are you buying so much? </em>
</p><p>Aziraphale sighed.</p><p>“Well,” he said, “everyone needs to eat, my dear. The farmers and bakers here, they’re selling their produce in order to make their living.”</p><p>
  <em> You’re buying food because they have to sell it? </em>
</p><p>“Partly.” Aziraphale stepped around a couple with a pram and a dog on a lead. “I enjoy farmers' markets, too. So many people, everyone in a happy mood.”</p><p>
  <em> You’re here because people are happy? </em>
</p><p>“It’s a good place to see people be happy, and to help others be happy. They leave here, and carry that happiness with them. And every person they meet gets to share a little bit in it.”</p><p><em> But what about the food? </em> Junior persisted.</p><p>“Ah. The food.” Aziraphale patted his breast pocket gently. “We’ll take a different path home, one that passes by a food bank. We’ll drop most of the basket off with them, and take only what we need back to ours.”</p><p><em> You’re buying food for other people! </em> Junior sounded triumphant<em>. I knew it wasn’t all for us! </em></p><p>Aziraphale chuckled. They walked through the crowd in companionable silence for a bit, and then Junior said mournfully,</p><p>
  <em> So many apples and beans and eggs and butter. Does no one have mice, Azirafather? </em>
</p><p>“Alas, my dear, mice are rather unwelcome at market, and to farmers in general. They’re considered pests, who eat crops and make things dirty. Mice have their place, but they can damage a farmer’s livelihood if not controlled.”</p><p><em> When I grow up, </em> Junior said, <em> I’m going to help farmers by eating their mice. </em></p><p>“That is a very generous thing to do.”</p><p>
  <em> How is it generous if I’m doing it because I like it? </em>
</p><p>“You don’t have to not enjoy something to make it worthwhile, my boy. You’re allowed to feel good when doing good. It may even be your primary motivation, the reason you do it. Helping others is a good thing, and while sometimes it inconveniences us, we put our discomfort aside because someone needs us. However, it’s not always like that. Sometimes we feel good, and want others to feel good, too.”</p><p>Junior considered this.</p><p><em> I feel good</em>, he said.</p><p>“I’m glad, my dear.” They walked on, almost at the end of the market.</p><p><em> WAIT! </em> Junior shouted. Aziraphale tripped over his own feet. </p><p>“What is it? Is something wrong, my dear?”</p><p>
  <em> That way! Go that way, Azirafather! </em>
</p><p>“Where? This direction, Junior?”</p><p>
  <em> Yes! </em>
</p><p>Somewhat bemused, Aziraphale turned to the left and made his way through a few people. </p><p><em> There! </em> Junior said in excitement. Before them was a stall of flowers and plants, hanging from the tent poles and set out on tables. <em> Can we get one for Father? So he can feel good, too? </em></p><p>“That’s a lovely idea.”</p><p><em> I have to choose, </em> Junior said importantly as Aziraphale drew closer to the offerings. <em> I’m most like Father, so what I choose will be what he likes best. </em></p><p>Aziraphale listened patiently to the snakelet as he delivered a running commentary on each plant, Aziraphale holding each close to his chest so Junior could evaluate it. In the end he chose a little pot of fennel, partially because he liked how tickly the feathery greens were and partially because he liked the scent. Aziraphale purchased it and tucked it into the top of the basket, while Junior drew his head back into his pocket and curled up contentedly at the bottom.</p><p>“We’ll head to the food bank now, then?” he murmured. Junior yawned in reply. Aziraphale smiled fondly and began to walk more purposefully. </p><p><em> Don’t give them Father’s plant by mistake</em>, the snakelet said groggily.</p><p>“I won’t,” Aziraphale assured him. </p><p><em> Father is going to like it so much</em>, the snakelet mumbled. <em> It will make him happy. </em></p><p>“Anything you do would make him happy, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured reassuringly. His only reply was a sigh as Junior drifted into sleep.</p><p><br/>
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